The Crown Jewels (2 page)

She died after a long, slow, agonizing battle with breast cancer when I was eight years old. It was brutal to watch the person we loved the most suffer. Once she was gone, all we had was each other. And we were both miserable. Neither of us could pretend we weren’t. It was hard to move on, but eventually we did, slowly but surely coming out of our isolation and rejoining the world.

My father devoted all his spare time to raising me. He was a wonderful, doting father, even if he was incredibly busy with his career as a lawyer as I was growing up. Sure, there were nannies, but he did his best. He was always there for the important stuff, and always present when we were together.

I loved him with all my heart. Things were a lot different these days, though. I was grown up. Way past grown up, actually. My thirtieth birthday was coming up on New Year’s Eve and I’d made a point of spending every birthday with my dad. Now that he had been appointed by the President to be the US Ambassador to Sweden, I only saw him a few times a year, so I jumped at every chance I got to see him.

A few weeks in Sweden with him sounded delightful. Especially if he wasn’t working. I wasn’t a big fan of the holidays or the way it had been commercialized into such a crazy shopping season, but the one good thing about it was that I got to spend time with my favorite person.

Seeing him happy was even better. I knew he was lonely, and a part of me hoped the surprise was that he had found someone to spend time with.

“So when do I get this big surprise? Do I have to wait till Christmas?” I asked, linking my arm with his as we strode to the baggage claim area.

“Soon. Tonight, in fact.”

“Tonight?”

“Yep. I got you a hotel room, so you can have some privacy. You know how small my place is. So, we’ll go check you in and then we’re going to dinner somewhere special. Wear the best dress you brought with you.”

“Wow. A dress code, huh?”
There goes my comfort over fashion approach
, I thought.

“Something like that. It’s a nice place,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to feel underdressed.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said, beaming up at him.

He nodded, and pulled me in for a hug.

“I love you, Jewels,” he said.

“Julia, Dad. You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Okay, Jewels. Whatever you say,” he winked, and then laughed at my groan.
Some things never change
, I thought to myself.

***

The hotel was magnificent and way too luxurious. Gilded mirrors and white leather couches greeted me when I opened the door to my room.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said to myself. Dad was waiting for me in the hotel bar, and I had to hurry to change clothes for dinner. My room wasn’t just a room, it was a suite of rooms. I walked into the plush bedroom, the thick, white carpet under my feet reminding me of the thick layer of snow that lined the streets on the way here.

I opened my suitcase on the bed, and pulled out the only two decent dresses I had packed. One was a plain black shift dress, that I usually wore with heavy boots and tights. Not exactly suitable for a nice dinner. The second one was nicer, but I’d packed it to wear for my birthday on New Years Eve. It was red, low cut, sparkly, and short. Very short. I hadn’t thought we’d be going straight to some fancy restaurant, thinking I would have time to settle in, maybe do a little shopping if necessary.

Now, I felt completely unprepared.

I’d just have to make do. I changed into the red dress, wrapping its thin, shimmering silk around my newly formed curves. I was a late bloomer and hadn’t started filling out until a few years ago. I smiled now at how different I looked. I was an entirely different woman than the tall, lanky girl that had gotten through college with her nose constantly shoved in a book, with no real attention given to her appearance.

I’d gotten into Brown on my own merits, refusing to let my father pull any strings. But that meant I had to work my ass off, and I did. Once I got there, I was determined to make the most of it, to show the dean that I deserved my scholarship. I managed to get through those four years with only a few minor bumps…and one major mistake that I’ve tried my damnedest to forget.

Speaking of that mistake, being in Sweden made me uncomfortable, because I was just a little too close for comfort to the source of it. But I was only here for a little while, so I was hoping I was safe.

I draped a sweater over my shoulders, put on a pair of black pumps, and pulled on my big, puffy coat. It was bright purple, with a huge hood trimmed in faux fur, and although it made me look like a big purple bear, I didn’t care. I was determined to stay warm while I was out in this ridiculously brutal cold. I grabbed my bag, pushing all thoughts of the past firmly to the back of my mind as I made my way downstairs to find my father.

He was waiting for me when I got off the elevator, and when we reached his car outside, he opened the car door for me with a dramatic flourish.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” he said. I giggled as he closed my door and ran around to the driver’s side. My father, always a gentleman, always a joker, always loving. It was good to be near him.

As we drove to the restaurant, I asked him about work.

“How’s everything at the embassy?” I asked.

“It’s good. We have a big diplomatic meeting coming up at the beginning of the year that we’re getting ready for. I have to give a speech.”

“Oh, I know how you love that,” I teased. Giving speeches was the one part of my father’s job that he didn’t enjoy. And he had to give a lot of speeches. He always felt sick beforehand.

“Where are we going?” I asked. We were in a busy part of town, with lots of bustling shoppers and bars and restaurants lining the cobblestone streets. Colorful buildings jutted up into the night sky, towering over us.

“To the oldest restaurant in Stockholm, it’s called Den Gyldene Freden. It means, “The Golden Peace”. Actually, it happens to be the oldest restaurant in the world, in fact. Very famous place.”

“Wow. Sounds awesome,” I replied. We turned down a tiny, old street, and I stared up at all the old buildings, instantly transported back in time. I loved the old architecture, the tiny cafes with their outdoor seating and sparkling lights and old ironwork. It was all so romantic and beautiful.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Absolutely, I’m starving,” I replied. Dad slowed the car down as we approached the restaurant, and I noticed that the street was blocked off up ahead by several shiny, black SUV’s and a half-dozen men wearing black suits and little ear pieces.

“What’s all this?” I asked, as my father continued driving towards them.

“Don’t worry,” he said, patting my hand.

“Worry?” I was confused, but he continued towards them, slowing down and rolling down his window.

“Mr. Rose, good evening, sir,” the guard greeted him.

“Hello, Gerard,” my father replied. “Nice to see you.”

Gerard nodded and stepped to the side, allowing my father to pull through.

“What is all this, Dad?” I asked again.

“Security.”

“Security, right,” I repeated. We pulled up to the valet, and the doors of our car opened, a black gloved hand reaching in to help me out. I took it and stood on the sidewalk, taking in the tall men standing around, the deserted sidewalk in front of the cafe.

“I don’t understand, Dad,” as he joined me in front of the Den Gyldene Freden. I looked in the windows, and all the tables were empty. “I think they’re closed.”

“They aren’t closed, come on,” he grabbed my hand and guided me inside. I looked around at the empty candlelit tables, the enormous chandeliers and huge floral centerpieces, and realized how completely underdressed I was.

A large man greeted us, taking my big, comfortable purple coat away. When my father saw my short red dress, he raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. I was thinking the same thing.
Dammit.

“I didn’t have anything else nice to wear, sorry…” I said, my voice trailing off as we were seated at a large table in the center of the room. Vases filled with the tiniest red roses, pure white china, sterling silver bowls, crystal goblets, shimmering candles…the table looked like it was set for royalty.

I looked across the table at my father. He wasn’t beaming anymore. He looked nervous, even though his smile was still on his face, it was just a little more crooked now.

“What’s going on, Dad?” I asked again, hoping for some explanation.

“You’ll understand soon, darling.” I had no idea why he was being so vague, or why we were the only ones sitting in this fancy restaurant, and I really wanted to know what was up with all the security. My father didn’t need security and never had, so none of this made any sense to me. A waiter appeared and began pouring red wine in my crystal goblet, before repeating his flamboyant show with my father’s glass.

I sipped the wine slowly, the light reflecting in the glass on the table. I looked around, my eyes drawn out the door, over my father’s shoulder. The men outside were standing in one place, their heads moving back and forth as they scanned their surroundings.

“Should I be scared? This is a bit much.” My eyes widened as I had a terrible thought. “Dad, is your life in danger or something? Is that why all these security guys are here?” I would be devastated if something happened to my father.

“No, Jewels, it’s nothing like that. Don’t worry. You’ll find out soon enough. Enjoy your wine.”

“Dad, you have to tell me. This is getting weird.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a hint,” his eyes lit up. “I want you to meet someone.”

“Meet someone? Oh, okay. Who?”

“Well, that’s the surprise. I can’t tell you.”

“I see. Okay, Dad,” I replied. “It must be someone important.”

“You could say that,” he said, a teasing note rising in his voice.

The security guards outside launched into a frenzied dance of movement as a long limousine pulled up in front of the restaurant, surrounding the sleek black car completely. I watched as a door opened, and two figures emerged from the back. The large men obstructed my view, and I strained my neck to get a better look at them.

“Oh!” my father exclaimed. “They’re here!” he said, standing up and facing the door, blocking my view even more. I didn’t know if I should stand up or what, so I stayed seated, trying in vain to see around my father.

As soon as the front door opened, the energy in the room sizzled.

“Darling! It’s so good to see you,” I heard a female voice say, and then I watched as arms that were dripping in jeweled bracelets and hands wrapped in fur gloves wrapped around his neck.

So that was it. My father had a girlfriend. A very rich girlfriend. That needed an entire security team?

What the hell?
I thought.

I took a deep breath, preparing for to face the first girlfriend my father had ever had since my mother died.

When she stepped around him and came into view, my jaw dropped.

It couldn’t be! No way in hell!

My body froze in shock, but somehow I found my feet and stood up.

Standing in front of me was the Queen of Sweden. The fucking Queen. The one and only. Authentic. Real. Living. Breathing. Queen!

Not some little moving picture on an electronic screen.

The Queen!

Please don’t let this be real, please don’t let this be real, please don’t let this be real…
The chanting filled my head and my father’s voice barely registered.

“Jewels, I’d like you to meet Queen Victoria,” my father said. My eyes kept jumping back and forth between the two of them, the Queen, my father, the Queen, my father, my head stuck in a tailspin of confusion.

“H-h-hello,” I managed to blurt out, as I stared at her outstretched white-furred hand like it was a snake ready to attack. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? Give it CPR? Kiss it? Curtsy? Kiss it and curtsy at the same time? Call her ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Your Grace’ or something like that? Was I supposed to kneel down and let her bless me like the Pope or something?

I tried flipping through the images of royalty in my mind, trying to find some sliver of knowledge in the back of my head about the correct method of greeting the fucking
Queen
, but I came up empty. I wanted to kill my father for putting me in this situation with absolutely no warning.

“Julia, darling,” she exclaimed excitedly, “I’ve wanted to meet you for quite some time,” she grabbed my hand and then pulled me close to her, hugging me. The Queen of Sweden was hugging me and had been wanting to meet me? What universe was this?

The smell of what was surely perfume that probably cost a million dollars accosted my senses as she held me close. I stiffly let her embrace me, my arms like sticks at my side. I was terrified to touch her. The bright blue sapphires that lined the neckline of her royal blue dress pressed into my collarbone painfully.

I squeezed my eyes shut in pain and then opened them again as she began to pull away.

When I saw the tall figure standing behind her, I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. My heart skipped a beat and I reached for the table to steady my weak knees.

I blinked hard, hoping against hope that I had been mistaken, and someone else would be standing there when I opened my eyes again.

No such luck.

My eyes collided with the biggest, most regretted mistake of my life.

Prince Wilhelm Philip, the Duke of Värmland.

The one man that I had allowed to break my heart.

The one man that I had spent the last ten years agonizing over, avoiding any news about, and harboring a growing hatred for.

The last man on Earth that I ever wanted to see again.

He stepped forward, and before I could catch my breath, the Queen released me and stepped to the side. And then there he was, standing in front of me, grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it, his lips touching me, shooting sparks up my arm and making my stomach turn in revulsion all at once.